


Buffet Bash

by SpoiledAmbrosia



Category: Smile For Me (Video Game)
Genre: Belly Kink, Breaking Chairs, Gen, Inflation, Stuffing, all you can eat buffet, belly stuffing, overindulgence of a hungry hungry lawyerman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 08:34:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19292107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpoiledAmbrosia/pseuds/SpoiledAmbrosia
Summary: It's been days since Parsley's been out the office and the only thing on his mind is food.





	Buffet Bash

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JaredFace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaredFace/gifts).



> another commission that i had a blast on!!! as far as my fics go this is super tame its just a hungry dad eating a bunch lol enjoi!!!!

The smell hits him before he’s even through the doors, once he’s in, his hands on his stomach and his eyes are on everything. There’s piles of this, mountains of that. Rich, savory, sweet. The air is warm and smells like a barbecue. Of _ course _ there’s ribs. On cue, his stomach growls behind his own gaunt ribs. He straightens his back and there’s a pop high in his neck, and his shoulders are back to slouching, hands gripping his stomach. Parsley grabs a plate from the waiting stack and moves in, towards the best looking thing in his vicinity. 

 

He finds himself perusing side dishes, and like a golden beacon among it all, a cheesy tray of macaroni. Parsley’s stomach gave an impatient growl, his plate getting heavy in his hand as he loaded it with the cheesy mac. Behind the trays and sneeze guards, a cook gave him an odd look. Parsley shrugged, dumping one last heaping scoop onto his lopsided plate.

 

“It’s been a  _ week _ , buddy.” Parsley offered, moving on to the next side. He gave a pleased noise. “Ooh, _ potatoes. _ ” Mashed, au gratin, hash browns, garlic and herbs. Parsley’s stomach roared, his mouth watering enough for him to swallow. “Jeez, just one?” His plate was getting kinda full already, but there was still a little room for - okay, just one.  _ Two. _ Three, tops.  _ Maybe.  _

 

The gal behind the grill looked at his plate with unease in her eyes. Parsley kept his plate offered, giddy smile on his lips. “I like it medium rare, ma’am. Thanks.” 

 

His steak was sizzling on his plate by the time he found a seat, snagging an icy lemonade on the way to his table. He hadn’t wanted to, not yet anyway; there was still that crab he wanted to try, but his plate had his limits. He, on the other hand, was just getting started. 

 

Parsley’s spoon was spilling over cheesy goodness when shoved it in his mouth, humming in his throat at the _ taste.  _ “Oh my god, I haven’t had mac this good since  _ Mom’s. _ ” No offense. It was cheesy and delicious and felt so warm on the way down. His stomach gave a hungry growl, Parley humming around his spoon, rolling his eyes as he shoveled in another bite. “Yeah, yeah, shut up. I’m feeding you, aren’t I?” Wincing at the angry gurgle in his belly, Parsley rubbed at his flat stomach, still  _ achingly _ empty. He gathered up the noodles on his plate, shoving it into a mound of mixed potatoes. 

 

It was oddly...good. In a noodly, potatoey way. Once the mac was out of the way, the potatoes were next, going down easier than the mac. Parsley spread his legs, belly catching tight against his buttons, his hand giving the warm paunch a gentle squeeze. “Oooh, that’s so much better.” The potatoes were filling him up nicely, his stomach sounding more forgiving, the cramps easing into a pleasant fullness. 

 

His thumb struggled for place under his belt, trying to give himself a little more room. “Guess we’re doin’ it the old fashioned way…” Now, onto that steak. Parsley hadn’t bothered with a knife; steak were always more of a finger food for him,  _ but _ he was in public so the cut wound up on his fork. Parsley didn’t waste time with tiny bites, he instead opted for fitting as much of the steak in his mouth and attempting to bite down. It worked, kinda. He chewed through the fat, melting on his tongue and meat tender and tasting like smoke. His belly was -- fighting for space, the tight pull of his belt keeping it under pressure. Gas bubbling up his chest, Parsley’s cheeks puffed, covering his mealy burp. Parsley tried to wiggle his thumbs under his waistband, not an inch to spare with his belly rounding out. It was warm, heavy and nice. Parsley relaxed against the booth, sighing content, plate clear and belly showing the spoils of his meal. 

 

“Man, that’s so much better. Nice and full, now. I could just doze off here…” His eyes closed, the bustle of the buffet around him. 

 

His nose twitched, a savory and fragrant smell filling the air. Parsley’s eyes popped open, sitting up too quickly, stomach gurgling like it’d been offended by the jostle. “Is that -  _ spaghetti?! _ ” Parsley sat up and winced, hand coming to the side of his bloated paunch. “ _ Oof _ , right. Still full.” He braced himself on the table, slowly raising up with his stomach sticking out past his belt buckle. Parsley grumbled, feeling over his buttons, beginning to spread from how  _ he’d _ grown. “Just one bowl,” he promised himself. “Just one bowl and I’ll be done.” 

 

He lied. Parsley ambled back to his table with two bowls of spaghetti, enormous meatballs on evenly dressed noodles, a snowy covering of parmesan cheese. Parsley couldn’t get the bowls down fast enough, fork twirling and slurping, meatballs cut and so  _ juicy _ . They were huge, the size of his fists almost. Parsley moaned into the bites, almost whining at the burst of salt. 

 

The first bowl disappeared quick, Parsley’s belt in a losing fight with the overfed stomach behind it. The spaghetti went down heavily, garlic on his tongue and lemonade washing the last of the meatballs. His stomach sloshed and glurped when he fell back, hands kneading over the result of his indulgence.

 

“ _ Urrgh _ , that hit the spot.” His belt had certainly seen better days. It cut into his sides, pinched him at odd places and - honestly. Fed up with the stubborn thing, Parsley undid the clasp, shirt rapidly going strained over his belly. Parsley’s throat bubbled, cheeks bulging as he belched. “Ooof, man, that’s  _ so  _ much better.” His buttons were on their last legs -- or strands. Either way, he was a hard breath away from blowing out of it. His belly churned, working through his monster of a meal, sounding content and  _ packed.  _

 

Parsley itched at the peek of bare flesh above his loosened belt, heat of his gut warming his fingers. Had he seen cake? 

 

Grunting at the impact of his gut on the table’s edge, Parsley waddled out of his booth, back aching and gut feeling like a wrecking ball. He breathed thinly, the odd gas still creeping up his throat in a quiet burp. His middle, as hugely bloated as it was, bemoaned like it was still  _ hungry. _

 

He  _ was _ still kinda hungry. He’d just -- look around, yeah. He wasn’t gonna eat anything else, no way. Stick a fork in him, ‘cause--

 

Parsley knew he was a horrible liar, to himself, probably to the cooks who’d seen a lot more of him. Literally. He’d been grazing. Everything looked so  _ good _ , how could he not dig in a little? That’d been his reasoning on his second piece of cheesecake, a solid and creamy treat after all that pasta. He’d brought more empty plates than loaded ones back to his table, and not even those lasted that long.

 

Steak, fish, crab. All dipped, torn up, and wolfed down. Jellies and cakes alike had fallen onto Parsley’s plate and found its place in his ravenous belly. Buttons, burst and somewhere on the buffet floor. He hadn’t noticed it, not until he grew into the space his belt had given him. Heck, he hadn’t noticed until it made moving --  _ tricky.  _ The staff were kind folk, and offered him a chair when they noticed he’d been trying to jam himself back into the booth.

 

His hands were around a burger - a buffet with burgers, the place had  _ everything _ \- when something gave way with a swift  _ crack. _ And then he fell.  _ Crashed _ , was more like it. His chair - poor thing, was in shambles under his sore bottom. 

  
Parsley’s gut had something to say to that. Flat on his back, Parsley just groaned back, taking a huge bite of his burger. “Gimme a hand, someone?” Not polite to talk with his mouth full, but he was _ hungry.  _

**Author's Note:**

> see? these hands can spin pure tales


End file.
